


Rooney King, Former Human

by Alexthefangirl77



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Beware the aussie slang, Depressing almost..., Digger was not an asshole back then, Fanfiction is hard everyone, Other, Second work of the day, What happened to him, Yay this sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 19:12:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12871164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexthefangirl77/pseuds/Alexthefangirl77
Summary: Rooney grew up with him. She loved him, cared for him, but then he abandoned her. They had a life planned, but now she's recruited for Task-force X, and is forced to relive moments from all those years ago when she used to be able to love.





	Rooney King, Former Human

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first fanfiction ever written, the other is the first I ever posted. If you're interested in my work, check out my page <3 Thanks y'all! (Everything in italics are flashbacks.)

_He grabs my hand and leads me to the edge of the river. We stand at the perimeter of a large clearing, fireflies dancing in the faint crescent moonlight. He grins cheekily, a devious look fluttering across his face. A smile, spreads slowly across my own, despite myself. He takes off his shoes and socks and rolls up the bottom of his pants. “Come on, Rooney! Ya ‘fraid ave a little water?” “Absolutely not, ya little-” a strong hand pulls me into the mild current, water reaching my knees. “George!” I shriek, swatting him away as he laughs hysterically. I break into giggles and he reaches to cup my face in his hands. “Rooney…” he breathes. “Rooney!” his voice becomes urgent and more insistent._

“ROONEY!” My eyes are pierced by a ray of sweltering sunlight. “Hmmmmm…” I sigh sharply, lifting my arms to shield my vision. Ugh. What are my limbs made of, lead? I bravely open my eyes, tanked that my dream was abruptly ended. I realize I’m lying on the ground, and I suddenly feel jabbing rocks pressing into the flesh of my lower back. “Right, don’t even let a gal rug up, just throw me on the ground. Smart.” I am consciously aware of my thick accent. “A fellow ozzie, huh?” I look up at the provenance of the voice. My eyes widen to indescribable sizes. I feel warm liquid running down my face, and realize it’s my own tears. Next thing I know I’m standing over him, screaming curses at him, as he holds his cheek, stunned. “Wot the hell crawled up your arse an’ died, Sheila?” “Ya fucking figjammin’ wanker! ARGH!” “’Scuse me? Do I know ya? I think I’d remember such a fine piece of woman…” I stare daggers into his vivid blue eyes. “Enough. That injection you got? That’s a nanobyte. It’s the size of a rice grain, but powerful as a hand-grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, guess what. You die.” The thin sheila with stringy platinum-blonde hair raises her hand and peers at the guy warily. “I’m known to be quite vexing, I’m just full warning you…” The missionary snaps at her. “Lady, SHUT UP!” he orders. I snort, crossing my arms indignantly, smirking at her. She flips me off and I grin. He pipes up again, staring superiorly at a dark-skinned man in a bright orange jumpsuit. Belle Reve. Huh. “Listen, here’s the deal. You’re going somewhere very bad, to do something that’ll getcha killed. But until that happens, you’re my problem.” He raises and drops his arms in defeat, his face sporting an annoyed expression. “Fella, I think it’s the otha way ‘round. You’re our problem, and personally, I wanna get ridda ya as soon as possible.” He glares in annoyance at me, and the jumpsuit bloke paces forwards. “So, is that a, a pep talk?” “Yeah, that was a pep talk. Grab what you need for a fight. We’re wheels up in ten.” He dismisses all of us, speaking into a comm. I sigh, and a cart is lazily wheeled in front of me. Ah. My belongings. I gaze to the side, where the sheila squeals dramatically and holds up a black and red jumpsuit to her chest. I roll my eyes and she glances at me. “’Cha got there, lady?” she skips over and starts rummaging through my stuff. “First of all,” I slam my trunk closed, “Non’a ya bizzo,” I shove her away, “An’ secondly, bail out, sheila.” I turn abruptly as Flag holds up a tablet bearing the federal government crest. “Behold, the voice of god,” he drawls sarcastically. “For those of you who don’t know me officially, my name is Amanda Waller. There is an active terrorist event in midway city. I want you to enter the city, rescue HVT1 and get him to safety.” Lawton speaks up: “I’m sorry, for those of us who don’t speak good guy, what is HVT1?” “The only person that matters in the city, the one person you can’t kill.” She stares at us through the lens somberly. “Complete the mission and you get time of your prison sentence, fail the mission: You die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag and I’ll kill every single one of you.” I laugh halfheartedly and stare at her a mocking expression on my face. “An’ how ya suppose you’ll achieve that, Mandy?” I smirk, and waltz over to my lootbox and grab the utility and Hot Box bag, and march up to the cargo plane. “Onto tha lemon looking set ‘a wings then.” I stand, clutching the hanging handles with my right hand. “Aussie. Yeah you.” Flag points at me, then to the seat next to the other oz. “Sit your ass down, will you?” I sneer and flop down ungracefully beside him, and buckle in. Another woman walks in as the click from my seatbelt is heard. Flag peers up at her. “You’re late,” he announces. She replies something in another language. Japanese. He addresses us. “This is Katana,” he shouts over the whirring engine, “She’s got my back. She can cut all’f you in half with one sword stroke, just like mowin’ the lawn. I would advise not gettin’ killed by her, her sword traps the souls of its victims.” The blonde sheila extends an equally pale hand to Katana. “Harley Quinn. Nice tah meetcha.” She says cheerily. I feel a slight nudge to my right shoulder. I snap my head around sharply, a frown decorating my face. “Oi, no need to get antsy, I’m not gonna crank ya or nothin’. Just wanted to know why ya hit me.” My face softens.

_“Someday, Roo, we’re gonna buy that house. We’ll have a dog, and a-”_

“George… I… you used to…” He stares at me expectantly. “What? I used to wot?” “Never mind.” I wipe clean my facial expressions and my face veers blank. No emotions. I’ve gotten good at this. Ever since my parents died, ever since he left, ever since my powers. I’ll never forget that night.

_“Rooney Eliza King, where in bloody hell’ve ya been?” “Dad, I’ve told ya I’d be at George’s place an’-” “I told ya that boy was not to be ‘round ya! Ya never listen, do you?” I fall against the doorframe, face stinging with sudden pain and rage. He raises his hand to me once again, and a voice calls behind the fly wire. “Heya Rooney! Ya left yo-” His face shifts into an expression of terror. My eyes feel aflame with anger. No. This was the last time he’d lay a finger on me. My father glares maliciously at George, then lowers his voice to a throaty milidecibel. “Boy, I’ve told ya. Stay away from my daughter, hear? You don’t deserve her an’ I shure as hell ‘aint havin’ your arse in ma’home!” I beg George to go, to just leave it be. I don’t want him getting hurt again. Not ever again, I- BANG! I fall to my knees, auburn hair flying around my panic-stricken face. I claw at the ground, and look back at George. “Yo-your eyes…” he stammers, and I peer up at him through the falling rubble of what used to be my home. “George please- I can’t do this anymore-I-” “No. Nonononono! You’re not- ya crazy!”_

“The last thing ya said to me. You said I was crazy. You told me ya hated me. I couldn’t control it, ya didn’t understand!” He looks at me surprised, then terrified, then angrily. “Roo? Lil Roo? King?” “Yeah, that’s me.” I turn my neck to face forward and tear myself up inside. He does the same. Not a single word was spoken. He mutters softly, touching my knee. “Why ya here? Why git caught up in all this? Ya gonna getchure self killed, Roo.” “No, I won’t.” “Yes, ya will.” “No.” “Mhm.” “Why do ya even care?” I whisper, my eyes trained on my shoes. “I don’t, I’m just lookin’ out for a fellow auss. There aint’ much’ave us bottlers out theya ya know,” he states, looking straight at me, then to the point on the floor my gaze is locked onto. I clear my head. No more George, no more memories, no more wasted energy on blokes who’ll never really love me. Suddenly, the cargo plane is filled with the sound of gunshots and the smell of charred metal. “Our set’a wings are gettin’ a little arsy tarsy all up in here…” I mumble, grasping my seat in a desperate attempt to stay in an upright position. I hear screams coming from all directions, and I swear under my breath. I roll my eyes and brace myself for the fall. I run my eyes around the cluster of falling bodies. “Nope.” I announce and teleport out onto the ground outside the cargo plane. Every time I do that, it seems my body is being pulled through a huge air vacuum, but it almost feels good. In a way that it makes my stomach tingle, if you know what I mean. I analyze my surroundings hastily, as the cargo plane sputters and crashes before me. Debris is projected half an inch from my face. I grab the bashed door, dented to all extent by silver bullets. I pry it forcefully off its warped hinges, freeing the squad from the iron prison. Flag trains his eyes on me, and nods barely perceptively. I smile sarcastically and jut out my hip, hands resting along my defined waist. Auburn hair flutters around my face in the post-disaster breeze. Harkness stares at me, addled. “Wha? Who-how? You can-ohmygawdyou’reawitch.” “Yeah. That I am. Ya see, ya missed a lot when you left,” I snap at him. Harley grins at me and punches my shoulder playfully. “Thank’ya Roones!” “Don’t call me that.” “Why not?” “Just don’t!” I grit my teeth at her sudden use of my child nickname.

_“Roones, ya know we have an exam tomarrow!” “Don’t care.” I clutch his arm and mount my bikie. “Cam’on now, let’s go! I wanna get there before the rain starts!” “Rooney Eliza King, we should be studying! Ya know better. Ah raised ya better than this!” I break into a fit of hysterical laughter at his expression on my uptight father. I grab his arm insistently and tug him to the bike. “Let’s go!” I demand as if I were a missionary addressing a jube digger. “Roones, we-” I grasp him by the nape of his neck and press my mouth to his. I pull away grinning deviously. He sighs, trying not to break into a smile. “Ya win. I’m comin’.” “Hahaha! Come on comeoncomeon!”_

I flinch, memories flooding my clear mind like a breaking dam. I open my eyes from my daydream and find the squad is halfway down the abandoned road I had appeared on. I take a couple lightheaded steps towards my teammates, and exhale sharply. “Let’s go, King.” I stride up to them and push through the group. I continue at a steady pace as we approach our target gradually. Harkness leans over the short man bearing dreadlocks. They confer for a few seconds, then acknowledge each other solemnly. They break out in fists, and a split second later, I wince as a spray of warm crimson liquid douses my face and upper body. I stare up at Weiss, dangling from a tethered nylon rope hooked to the top of the building. A flicker of a smile plays morbidly across my lips. “An’ I thought it was a hoax. That is damn bonzer!” “No! No, that is not cool! So not cool!” Lawton cries, looking at me as if I were deranged. I shrug lazily, and glance once again at the mass of blood and fleshy pulp that used to be Weiss’ neck. I mean, I’ve seen my fair share of gore in life, ranging from death to liquid laughter. (Which is vomiting, for those not connoisseur of Aussie slang.) But that was something nasty to no limit. After a bit of walking, which to me, seemed like we got nowhere, the group comes to a slow halt. I scrutinize the objects they are looking at through a lens. “Regolith…” I mutter softly, adjusting the straps on my tucker-bag. “’Scuse me?” Flag veers to peer at my concentrated face. “Regolith. They’re made out of regolith, duh.” I reply in a sarcastic manner. “Wot the hell is that?” Harkness takes out a couple boomerangs and begins to sharpen them, preparing for a fight. “A layer of charcoal-grey semi-heterogeneous rock covering bedrock, usually found on spatial bodies of solid matter, as in meteoroids, asteroids, the moon, Mars, etcetera.” I lift a finger to validate my point as a school-teacher would. “Nerd…” Lawton mumbles under his breath as he strolls past me. I flip him off, and widen my eyes as the creatures jerk towards us and approach the squad at surprising speed. I immediately flip my internal switch to survival mode. I hear gunshots, my vision blurred by sudden movement. I throw a couple punches in, then give up at melee and dig out my powers. Analysis of target, determination of form of combat, throw the fatal blow. That’s how I hit’em. When they’re not looking. Cheap, yes, but at least I can take these things out.

_“Orthodox stance, good, now outpoint, bolo- Perfect. Now, for a real sparring partna.” He takes my arm and dips me as if we’re ballroom dancing. I shove him away with a snort. “Come on, then. Hit me. Or ya too ‘fraid to hit a gal? Hm?” I challenge boldly. “Oh ya don’t even know. I’ve been wanting to hit ya for a while now.” “And which demeanor are you referring to?” A deep blush covers his cheeks a he pins me unexpectedly. “Ah ah, go talkin’ like that, and some bloke’s gonna get the wrong idea, Roo.” I climb up the wall and backflip, slamming him to the ground in a split second. “An’ I reckon that bloke’s you?” “Seriously, Roones, I would neva-” I straddle him, and push hair out of my face, my eyes laughing. I lean down and rest my lips on his. “Mm.”_

I shake my head, my anger overcoming me. I scream, the ear-splitting shriek crumbling the witch’s soldiers as if they were piles of dust. I fall to my knees, shocked at myself for my loss of control, and exhausted by the sudden release of excess power. I feel eyes boring into my tan skin. Diablo is the first to speak up. “Damn, chica. You okay?” I inhale, the smell of burnt flesh invading my nostrils. I realize my hands are charred and black. “Yeah, fine.” I reply shakily. I close my eyes, a sliver of light emerging from under my thick lashes. My fingers warp and change, regenerating themselves to their healed state. “Woah… Lady, that is some cool shit right there. Woah.” Harley utters. I look up to the swirling rings of incandescent blue supernatural magic. This is gonna be a long night, I think to myself.

 

Panting heavily, Harley collapses onto the rail and whines, something about cardio. I roll my eyes subtlety and sigh dramatically. “So fuckin’ tired of walking…” I mumble, and flip both legs over the railing. “What the hell are you doing?” Flag demands. I close my eyes and jump off, falling as my hair flutters around my face. I will myself to levitate, rising to the top of the stairwell, followed by the incredulous eyes of the squad. I gracefully set myself down as the others tread heavily behind me. “Let’s get this done, shall we?” I grin deviously, and head into the room along with Harley, Flag, and Lawton. He puts on his mask and adjusts the eyepiece. “Pussy.” Harley announces, smiling from ear-to-ear. I jut out my hip, and cross my arms across my chest. The creatures jump out of the shadows, quickly surrounding us. We’re outnumbered. Bonzer. “We’re rooted.” I mutter. “Excuse me?” Lawton peers at me through the white fabric of his mask. “Fucked, I said. We’re fucked,” I declare sarcastically. “Ah. Hm.” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his guns in an attempt to take out the flurry of soldiers. I grab an iron pipe, fallen from the ceiling they popped out of. I begin to hit everything I find, one of them being Waylon. I grin sheepishly and duck as one lunges for me, doing a sharp 360, and beheading it with a swing worthy of the major leagues. “Ha!” I cry triumphantly. I guess I really wasn’t paying attention, because I feel an impromptu slice of pain in my back. I glance down at my stomach and distinguish the vague shape of a blade tip. Dark red stains spread across my once-white shirt. “ROONEY!” George cries as I fall to my knees breathing heavily. He sprints towards me and catches me just as I begin to black out. “No, no nonono… I just got ya back, I’m not letting ya get away that easy this time… Roones, no…” he sputters and I laugh, almost hysterically. “Wot? Why are you laughing?” I sit up, thrust his arms away from me, and get up unsteadily. While we were living a romance sob-story, the rest of the squad were able to take the rest of the soldiers down, and are now staring at me warily. I feel my skin bubbling and stretching to create a puckered scar over aforementioned slice. I stretch leisurely, and lower my hands to rest on my hips. “What are ya all starin’ at?” I mock. I strut out, heading to the given coordinates of HVT1, and kick to the side a pile of soldier that may have been their ass.

_“Ya have to stay with me, Roo. Ya gonna get through this, it’s gonna be okay…” A tear slides down his cheek, leaving a shiny trail in its wake. “Georgie, please,” I cough, blood splattering on my lower lip, “I’ve survived worse. Memba’ when I crashed?” “Yeah.” He laughs through his sobs. “Well, I’m here with ya, aren’t I?” He says nothing, but grasps my hand and squeezes it gently, staying by my side as they roll my bed away. “Sir, you can’t come here.” A woman with an American accent steps in his pathway. I faintly hear him protesting desperately. She begins steering him towards the exit. I smile reassuringly through my tears, and all goes black._


End file.
